


Philosensitive Retinal Ganglion Cells

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 20:35:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11260500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In a world where you only see color upon meeting your soulmate, most people are keen to know the "who", "when", and "where". For neuroscientist Alfred Jones, however, the questions of "how" and "why" are more interesting, and he's dedicated his life to discovering the mechanism for this phenomenon. He'd never have guessed that his studies would have led him to meeting his own soulmate.





	Philosensitive Retinal Ganglion Cells

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from my tumblr

For the fourth night in a row, at precisely three A.M., the phone rang. This time, the receiver was ready, as he’d stayed up later than his usual midnight bedtime for the sake of the caller. Still, his voice was huskier than usual, as his body did not agree with this new schedule. Even the tea that he’d consumed only a few minutes prior with its small amount of caffeine wasn’t doing him any favors.

He answered. “Hello?” he said in English, knowing good and well who it was.

“Yo! Dr. B!” a loud and chipper voice responded. “How’s it hanging?”

“As always, you caught me as I was getting into bed.”

“Oh, wait, shit! How many times is that now?” he laughed.

“Four. But, who’s counting?”

“My bad. Anyway, did you get the email I sent you?”

He was looking at it at that exact moment, skimming to the best of his ability. “Yes, I read it already. What about it?”

“Check out the part near the end! I think we’ve found something!”

He scrolled through the lengthy post, then read. For a few seconds they were both silent. “It’s an interesting theory,” he mused. “But, how will you test it?”

“I’m not sure… it’s so difficult, you know! Oh, of course you know, I’ve been rambling about it to you for weeks now! Anyway, I was hoping you could do your thing and look into it for me as well, see if you find any historical reports or whatever.”

“Of course, of course. I’m not having too much luck on the other things you’ve asked me about,” he clicked out of the email, starring it for future reference. “Most accounts are much more literary in nature, and aren’t actually that viable for your research, in my opinion.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, they speak in verse, thanking the universe for their newfound love and color, never questioning how or why. Even accounts of ‘before’ versus ‘after’ the encounters don’t often describe sensations beyond feelings of eternal joy.”

The caller hummed to himself. “Ah, but we know now that one’s mental state doesn’t change after the Sighting. People who are depressed are still the same after, et cetera. So it’s not as if it truly creates lasting changes in neurotransmitter levels.”

“Exactly. I’m sure you wish for something more quantitative, but it just doesn’t seem like anyone was ever asking these questions before.”

“I’m sure there were curious people! It’s such a unique phenomenon, one that only humans experience—I really am fascinated as to when this evolved in our lineage. I just can’t believe that up until the past decade no one asked about the mechanism of it all, you know? I mean, it’s just like with the brain. Sure, only with the advancements of imaging techniques can we better understand it, but people have been making inferences about and experimenting on it for thousands of years!”

He nodded. “I know, I know. I’ll keep digging,” he assured. Feeling a bit more talkative thanks to his interesting conversation partner, he continued. “How was your day?”

“Great! I just got out of lab; we were training a new assistant for most of the day, but I was able to get away and work on my own too. Still trying to figure out appropriate parameters for the next experiment. Oh, we lost one of our Matched assistants, so I’m in the market for a new one. It’s so annoying having to rely on others for interpreting any colored data!” he huffed.

This was news to the receiver. “You’re not Matched?” he was shocked. His peer seemed too sociable, too knowledgeable about the topic to be without his Soulmate.

He sighed. “I know, it’s weird—trust me, I’ve heard all the critiques.”

“Critiques? For what?”

“Well, I get a lot of people who are upset with me for trying to explain away love and the bonds of souls. They say that science isn’t needed, that I’m just a cold, bitter loser who wouldn’t care about this if I had my own Soulmate to love,” he scoffed. “Now, don’t get me wrong, I have no problem with the Traditionalists, but come on, everyone knows that Soulmates aren’t fool-proof. Like everything, it arose because it was evolutionarily advantageous. But having one doesn’t guarantee that your love is meant to be. Hell, statistics show that the rate of divorce between Soulmates is growing. Some even take advantage of the forced bond and abuse their Mate! Some people have multiple. Some have even been born seeing color—isn’t that wild? One of my colleagues is working on engineering some mice with what he theorizes are receptors that activate the cone photoreceptors only after meeting the Soulmate; although, given my own previous research, I think the cones are perfectly functional from birth—I’d bet it’s something that occurs later down the line of processing, something in the cortex, that is triggered when encountering one’s Soulmate for the first time. It could be anything, their pheromones, a particular facial structure that one’s brain inherently associates with being compatible to produce superior offspring… who knows? But, oh, I forgot to mention! There was a blind man, recently deceased, whose wife of many years gained color when they met—but, what changed in him? He couldn’t all of a sudden see color, of course, but by his own journals it was clear that he knew they were Soulmates when they met! He could just feel it! So, for some, it may not even be vision! But, is it voice? There have been cases where people have heard each other, either on phones or whatever, and everything was still black and white, they didn’t See till after they met _in person_! Even things like Skype or Facetime… man you literally see and hear them, but you don’t change till you meet! Did you hear about that one story? In all the tabloids… some fan fell in love with a movie star, and she met him at a meet-and-greet, and they Saw! All that time she spent watching his movies and shows, and nothing! So, maybe it’s also smell? But, we’ve got all the primary compounds that make up a human’s scent that we can test on those without Mates, and those haven’t yielded anything… perhaps it’s a combination of all the senses, and then your mind’s just like, hot damn, let’s mate with them! Here’s a hint so you don’t fuck it up!”

As usual, the man was rambling, but the listener hardly minded. He’d grown used to the quirks of his peer, welcomed it, even. In his own field, things were a bit more reserved. He spent a great deal of time reading, poring through texts and translating them; as a result he knew fourteen languages, as he needed to be able to access primary sources or foreign journals—Norwegian, he thought, had been the easiest language to pick up on. He always enjoyed hearing the other’s stream of consciousness, and he assumed that the other enjoyed venting too.

To avoid further confusion, perhaps introductions are in order, given that we have plenty of time as the caller’s long-winded speech is only halfway done.

The receiver’s name is Ivan. Dr. Ivan Ivanovich Braginsky, to be exact. Pale, tall, broad, and very much Soulmate-less, he was hardly concerned with actually finding his Soulmate. He was much more interested in his studies—his focus was Russian history—than on romance. When he was much younger, he’d entertained the thought of finding a Mate, of filling his world with color and love. In addition to history, he was fascinated with literature, especially with romantic novels and how they attempted to convey the gravity of _finally_ seeing the world in all its colorful glory. However, with age, he’d grown a bit more cynical. To him, Soulmates were stifling. He’d fallen in love before with an old friend of his during his undergraduate career, and they were determined to marry, even though such marriages were frowned upon given that the body wasn’t “naturally suited for their union”; non-Soulmate marriage wasn’t even legal in his home country of Russia. But, his fiancé came home one day, crying. Ivan found out that the other had found his Soulmate, and then Ivan was promptly dumped so that he could pursue that new relationship. Last he’d heard, the couple were very much in love and adopting a child soon. He tried not to be bitter about it, but he usually failed. After that relationship ended, he graduated and went on to pursue graduate studies at Princeton University in the US. He gained his doctorate and taught history there for a few years and eventually moved back to Moscow in order to collaborate with Moscow State’s history department. He was scheduled to stay for a year, and he’d just started researching there a month before. While in Moscow, he was living with his older sister Yekaterina Ivanovna and her wife, and often visited his younger sister who had chosen to follow her beloved brother to Moscow State. They were always worried about him, insisting that he settle down—perhaps use a match-making service—soon. In his opinion, he wasn’t even all that old! He was only thirty-nine, and already a very accomplished scholar. What did it matter if he couldn’t see color? He was just fine without it.

Our caller’s name is Dr. Alfred F. Jones, a neuroscientist by trade. He had attended something of party school in the States for undergrad. At the time, he’d been a psychology major, though was on track to go to medical school. When he shadowed a doctor at a local hospital, he realized that such a life was not for him. However, the research lab that he assisted in fascinated him to no end. He graduated with bachelors in both psychology and biology. He transferred to a more research-oriented school down the road and researched under a prominent neuroscientist by the name of Arthur Kirkland. Alfred took to his studies with vigor, and earned his doctorate in record time, though he tried very hard to delay it if only to extend his time in the lab. Arthur finally just took him on as an associate professor, and, still at his same school, Dr. Jones presently taught a Comparative Neurobiology course while pursuing his passion, the Soulmate Project.

His entire life he’d looked forward to meeting his Soulmate, to seeing color and finding love. But, it hadn’t happened. He wondered why, then, though not in the way most unmated people did, bemoaning his existence that wasn’t setting him up with another. No, he _needed_ to figure out the neurological basis for this phenomenon. He’d started out simply, comparing the brains of unmated and Mated. Post-mortem studies came next, followed by some animal studies. No other animal experienced sight in this way; whatever they were born with, that’s how they saw for the rest of their lives. There was no “magical moment” that graced them with enhanced vision. Unfortunately, given the lack of animals with comparable functions and the fact that it was morally questionable to force a person apart from their Soulmate, tests were difficult. It was nearly impossible, also, to predict who your Soulmate would be, so they could never view the Moment itself. Sure, they had volunteers who would wear portable EEG units and they had had a few cases where the Soulmate was encountered while they wore them—needless to say, their mates were confused about the get-up. Still, the data was usually corrupted by the person’s excited and focused state that came as a result of seeing colors for the first time and then meeting their Mate, so it was hard to pinpoint what was going on more subtly that gifted the person with colors.

He tried not to get side-tracked, but he was often berated by his peers for having a horrible focus. He presently had a handful of papers in the works, all sparked by a rumor here, an interesting story there. When he’d met someone who, after the death of their Soulmate, lost color about a day after the funeral (this was usual; it used to be believed that one lost color vision the moment the Soulmate died, but that was purely fictional. Even extended time away from your Soulmate can dilute the colors you see, though upon reuniting, vision is restored. Some have reported that, while long-distance, they never lost their color vision so long as they called every few days. So, he knew, there was something to do with memory, where even activating one sense could trigger the whole mechanism so long as it’s _after_ the initial meet) only to have their color restored upon meeting his wife’s estranged and thus theretofore unknown twin sister, he scrapped half of his previous work and was set on twin studies. Never before had identical twins had the same Soulmate, after all, and being a twin himself, he was fascinated. Of course, his brother Matthew had long-since been Mated, and when Alfred first met Gilbert, he’d seen nothing new at all, only gained a sense of comfort that his brother had chosen a fun and admirable man to date.

As he’d told Ivan before, multiple Soulmates were possible, though this usually only occurred after the death of one member. However, a young girl studying abroad had reported that, after losing sight due to inability to speak with her boyfriend back home, she’d met a strapping young lass who gave her back her color–the other didn’t even have to die, then! He thrived on such strange cases, as they only helped to give him more insight as to the more typical cases. He never felt bitter about being unmated, only annoyed when there were colored reports that needed to be read. Most of his assistants were mated, had been for years—the average age was 19 those days; according to Ivan it used to happen much earlier… Another fascinating question for him! How had the mechanism evolved alongside social evolution and technological advancement, he wondered. Ah, such was the mind of Alfred, forever hopping from one thing to the next. As mentioned before, he had his critics who didn’t want a scholar to be butting into their romantic business so much. He insisted it was practical, however, as he thought the current social institutions created an oppressive and Soulmate-centric world. If he could reduce the sensation to certain pathways, certain receptors on ganglionic cells perhaps, then the world would finally know that humans with or without mates are equal, and that relationships where the couple aren’t Soulmates are worth protecting.

“…Speaking of couples, did you hear about those people in Finland? Apparently it’s a polyamorous group, a trio. When the first two met, they knew they were Matched, of course. Then the third came along and they claim to have gained _even more_ colors, whereas the third person just gained the basic set! I’m trying to get a grant to fly out and see them, they seem super willing to perform a few tests. Of course, I just got back from Chile where I was interviewing the one man, you remember? The one who lost color even though still married to their Soulmate? The board must be sick of me by now! But, with the conference coming up, I’ve gotta give them something good, you know? Right now I just have a bunch of super random observations, not a ton of data that proves anything.” He sighed. “They’ll just call me crazy and unorganized again. That’s no fun.”

“What conference?”

“Oh, it’s a biannual—wait, does that mean twice a year or once every two years? Well, I mean it in the ‘once every two years’ sense, anyway. So, yes, the American Institute of Neuroscientists has a conference coming up, and I’ve been selected to speak on my research. Arthur wants me to narrow my focus, but we’ve discovered so much, how could I? I’ll probably present it all in a review of sorts, though of course that means I’ve got to finish my individual projects. Oh, speaking of, I’m nearing the conclusion of one, should be sent out for review soon. I prefaced it with one of the passages you’d sent me, the one from some French philosopher? You’ve been cited as well, of course.”

“Hopefully not as an author,” he chuckled. “I hardly help you all that much.”

“No, you totally do! Whenever you give me some literary evidence, I totally feel more validated in my work! I’m definitely gonna put your name on everything!”

“Ah, well, thank you. But, shouldn’t I read the whole thing first?”

“Oh, yeah! That makes sense! Here, I’ll email you the current draft. Let me know if you have any questions.”

“I was only kidding. I doubt I’ll understand what you’re talking about, anyway.” The email popped into his inbox, and he opened the attached file. He wasn’t looking forward to reading “Comparison of chemosensation mechanisms between Soulmates and common mates” at all, even though Alfred had also sent a little note saying, “Pay attn to figure 5c!!!! some common mates reported that they gained color after twenty years of dating!!!!! :OOOO“ Ivan closed the article and continued. “French philosopher, you say? Was that the one comparing his lover to the rain?”

“Yeah! Where he had his Soulmate who was like the snow, or something, but his lover he’d had for years was like the rain, and he compared them and what he felt for each.”

Ivan nodded. “Ah, yes. He ended up divorcing his Soulmate and eloping with his lover, I believe. Dreadfully romantic. There’s a book about it.”

“I think I’ve seen the movie for it!”

“The adaptation was an injustice,” Ivan whined. “If you find the time, you should read the book. Though I doubt you have time for such activities.”

“Maybe when I fly to Finland, I’ll check it out!”

“So confident that you’ll get the grant, I see,” Ivan chuckled.

“Well, Arthur can never say ‘no’ to me, you know! I bet I’ll be there soon! Hey, we should meet up in St. Petersburg, or something. One of my assistants, he’s from Finland, he was saying Finnish people drive to St. Petersburg for untaxed alcohol, and the Russians cross the border for untaxed dish soap, or something. Is that true?”

He laughed. “The Finnish soap is much better for laundry, I must say. I think they come over for oil, too, and cigarettes. Though, we all just want American ones, in the end. When will you be in Finland?”

“Probably next week, I think. Are you free?”

“Ah, unfortunately not. I will be traveling to Sochi at that time. Much too far for a quick visit, unfortunately.”

“What a bummer! Well, you could always come to the conference. It’s in half a year. By then, you’ll be well known by anyone who’s read my stuff!”

Ivan blushed. “You give me too much credit. I haven’t even given historical context as I should’ve, just thrown famous platitudes at you.”

He laughed. “No, you’re a saint! Is there already a St. Ivan?”

“There has been for over a thousand years, yes.”

“Ah, shoot… Anyway, would you be interested in coming to the conference? It’s in my home state of California, beautifully sunny! You’ll be here during the summer, too. I bet you’ll love it. Much better here than in New Jersey,” he teased.

“Perhaps I can take a week off given how much notice I have. It could be nice to visit the States. I have many friends in California, as well.”

“Good! It’s settled, then. Of course, in the meantime I still expect plenty more assistance from you!”

“Obviously,” he chuckled. “Why, without my help where would you be?”

“Ho ho! You jest too harshly, good sir!” he laughed, then yawned. “Gosh, I need to take a nap. What time is it there, anyway?”

“Four AM, now. Which means it’s only 6 PM there. How are you tired?”

“I just ate a huge burger, I got the Itis. Need to nap, you know. Then it’s back to the lab.”

“ _Chto_?” he said. “I mean… what? You go into work so late? No wonder you think its acceptable to call me at this ungodly hour…”

“Ha! Yeah, as long as I do, like, nine hours out of twenty-four, I think it’s fine. Hmm… I usually work from one to five in the afternoon, take my ‘eat food and call Ivan’ break. Go home, nap, grade homework, then go to lab from ten to three in the morning. Then, I eat again, and sleep.”

“This really explains the odd hours when you send me things, and why you don’t respond at perfectly reasonable office hours. Don’t you teach, as well?”

“Oh yeah, from 11:30AM to 12:20, thrice a week. Not too bad. Plus, I’m real easy on the kids. Hardly any homework since I don’t wanna grade so much, you know?”

Ivan shook his head. “So strange. I prefer a typical eight to five, myself.”

“Too routine! Sometimes I’ll even switch it up! Why, just today I got Arby’s instead of In-N-Out! Crazy!”

“Wow,” he laughed. “So spontaneous.”

“You know it! Anyway, I must get to my nap. I’ll call you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Even if I said ‘no’, you would.”

“True! Nighty night!” He hung up. Ivan placed his phone and laptop on their chargers then settled in to finally sleep.

He and Alfred had been keeping up a correspondence for a bit over a week. In the beginning it had only been emails, with the first being incredibly out-of-the-blue. Alfred had heard about him from a peer, and wanted some help with digging up historical cases of Soulmates, especially those that were atypical. While Ivan’s research rarely focused on such specifics, he took up the challenge, as he found Alfred’s questions to be very interesting. Besides, it allowed him to indulge himself in his literary hobby. Alfred had called for the first time a few nights before, and was apparently making a habit of it.

The next afternoon, Ivan found something he thought would pique Alfred’s interest, and so sent him a ring. As he’d hoped, he’d rudely awoken Alfred from his sleep, and his sense of justice felt very much fulfilled.

“Dude…” he whined over the phone. “Whaaatttt?” he dragged out the question, making it last several seconds longer than necessary.”

“Listen to this!” he smiled to himself, then read.

They carried on like this for months, each updating the other on their little projects. Ivan’s own research team was very confused about what they were even doing—did he want them looking into Orthodox practices, or Soulmates? Most just figured their advisor was finally falling in love, and perhaps they were right. As it was, neither him nor Alfred thought anything odd about their constant correspondence. Both were so engrossed with their work to think of love, and both were nearing breakthroughs. Ivan had chosen to scrap his research on Church revivalism after the fall of the Soviet Union, choosing instead to compile all the things he’d uncovered on Alfred’s behalf. Alfred was all for it, as then he’d only have to source one article as opposed to many different works, he joked.

They eventually grew to be good friends, not just peers who’d discuss work. Ivan found out more about Alfred’s life, and vice versa. They’d complain to each about off days, even started calling on weekends when both were free—both had drunk-dialed the other on numerous occasions. Alfred insisted they start Facetiming, and Ivan relented. He had never taken the time to look up what exactly Alfred looked like, though he easily could’ve looked at Stanford’s faculty page to do just that. He knew he shouldn’t have been surprised at his youth, as surely his mannerisms and voice had already betrayed this, but still, seeing such a fresh-faced and knowledgeable scholar was unexpected.

Ivan’s peers teased him relentlessly about his “obvious” infatuation with Alfred, though he insisted it wasn’t the case. They looked forward to his upcoming trip, knew that he’d be coming back smiling, in love, and seeing all the colors available to him. While he denied such a thing happening, a small part of him, one he fought to squish down, wanted it too. Still, he had never been lucky with Soulmates, and he didn’t want to get his hopes up.

He boarded his plane at Sheremetyevo International and set off for San Francisco, where Alfred would be waiting for him. Stanford was generous enough to pay for Ivan’s transportation and hotel, as Alfred insisted they would be—it turned out the board really couldn’t say ‘no’ to their young professor.  Fifteen hours later yet ten hours behind, Ivan’s body was in a state of jet-lagged confusion. He disembarked, went through customs, picked up his duty-free bottles of vodka—how could he meet Alfred and not bring a gift?—and proceeded to collect his bags.

Nearing the baggage claim, he saw him. He recognized the blond hair, the blue eyes (or rather, recognized the shades of grey that he knew corresponded to blond and blue), the glasses, and a kind smile. He was holding a sign that read, in poorly written Cyrillic, Иван Брагинский along with a smiley face.

He smiled, but inside his heart fell. As he expected, the world was still black and white. Alfred wasn’t his Soulmate. Even though they’d clicked so well, flirted even, it wasn’t meant to be. Was Alfred even open to non-Soulmate relationships? he wondered. Was it even worth it?”

“Alfred?” he approached the man and extended a hand. Alfred would be the type to forego the handshake and go for a hug, he knew, but the man only took his hand in his.

“Hello Dr. Braginsky,” his voice was soft, calm—was Alfred sick? “Sorry, Alfred couldn’t come get you. I’m his brother, Matthew.”

Ivan blinked, froze, then blinked again. “Matthew? His twin?”

Matthew smiled. “Yup, that’s me. Sorry, you were probably a bit thrown off. He…” he chuckled. “Ah, he may have been right… Oh, so silly.” Again he giggled to himself.

“Er, are you alright?” Ivan asked.

“Oh, don’t mind me. A bit scatterbrained. I’m sure you’re used to it with him, though, aren’t you?”

“A bit, yes.”

“That’s good. Oh, I think he’s _very_ correct on this one, that’s a first. Come, I’ll take you directly to his lab. You can stop by the hotel after. Though, _apres ca, peut-etre_ … Ah, I’m getting ahead of myself. How many bags do you have?”

Matthew easily plucked Ivan’s single suitcase from the belt and carried it with him—Ivan insisted he at least use the wheels, but the man was strong enough, it seemed—outside where a car was waiting. There, Ivan saw a man even paler than him, with eyes a deep gray that Ivan found odd. He turned his head and caught sight of a fire hydrant which he knew would be red could he see it. Turning back, he confirmed it: the man’s eyes were red.

“Is this the guy?” he asked from behind the wheel.

“Yup. And I’m gonna owe Alfred ten bucks.”

“What? Ha!” he barked. “Poor guy.” Matthew threw the bag in the trunk, then slid into the front seat. Ivan joined them in the back, where he sat behind the passenger seat. “The name’s Gilbert, Alfred’s bro-in-law.”

Ivan nodded. “It’s nice to meet you both. Thanks for coming to get me.”

“To the lab, then?” Gilbert asked. Matthew nodded.

The trip took a bit under an hour, as the traffic was unfavorable. Ivan was entertained adequately, however, so he hardly noticed. Matthew and Gilbert were lively company. Much like his brother, Matthew was extremely prone to rambling, though his musings were quieter than Alfred’s—he seemed as if he was hiding some joke or something. Gilbert must have been in on his husband’s joke, however, as he would laugh whenever he caught Matthew staring back and smiling at Ivan.

The trio discussed their careers—Matthew was a nurse, Gilbert a police officer—and Alfred. It was clear to the pair in front that Ivan very much admired Alfred—he insisted it was solely for his research—and they teased every time Ivan said his name. Thankfully for the sake of his sanity, they arrived on campus before their insinuations could take a turn for the more vulgar. Gilbert was able to pass through the security checkpoint since they were using Alfred’s car with his faculty parking pass, so they meandered through the campus to Alfred’s lab.

He was in a rather large science building close to the hospital, according to Matthew. Ivan hardly had time to appreciate the beautiful campus before he was pushed into the remarkable, glass-covered building. Once inside, he was forced downstairs and faced an interior that didn’t reflect the outside’s impressive façade.

In the empty, concrete corridor, their steps echoed around them. Matthew and Gilbert seemed less talkative, as if the meeting had taken on a more morbid significance. They entered through unlocked double doors, and still, no Alfred.

The first room featured a number of caged mice, microscopes, benches, and the like. It was all very scientific looking, Ivan noted, though his experience with the sciences was very limited given his lack of interest. Half of the present apparati, he couldn’t even name them, he knew, and he had no idea why the lab had a need for three large fridges—was Alfred really that hungry? The first room had two doors, one on each side of the front, and from the right, another man emerged.

“This him, then?” the new man asked.

Matthew nodded. “Yup. Arthur, this is Dr. Bragisnky. This is Arthur, Alfred’s old advisor and current research partner.”

Ivan gave his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Instead of shaking his hand, Arthur clamped a hand on Ivan’s shoulder, and forced him to sit in a chair. Ivan still held his hand up dumbly, but Arthur continued to ignore it. He walked around, then grabbed a syringe. “Roll up your sleeve,” he ordered.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, don’t mind it. It’s just a quick little prick. Common lab practice, you know. We like to get as much behavioral and chemical data from people as possible, be they Matched or no. Since you’re unmatched, you’re of interest to us.”

“A shot, though? What of?” he eyed the syringe warily.

“You signed a release when you submitted to the university paying for your trip. It’s a small price to pay. Nothing toxic, I assure you. Just a PET scan. And, we ask that you wear an EEG.”

With a reluctant nod, Ivan lifted his sleeve. He received the shot—it really was a painless experience—then waited patiently for Arthur to attach a number of electrodes to his head. The wires connected to a box with a long cord that sat around his neck like a necklace.

“Alright, now. I’m going to ask you to put these on,” he handed Ivan a thick pair of blackened glasses. He put them on, and everything looked the same.

“What do they do?”

“Prevent colored vision. Too hard to explain to a damn historian though, just put them on.”

“I don’t understand… I can’t See, as you know already. Why would I need this?”

“Shut up,” he responded.

“Alright, are you ready to meet Alfred?” Matthew asked.

“I suppose,” he sighed while standing. “I look stupid.”

“Don’t worry,” an all-too familiar voice said. Ivan turned, and there was Alfred, outfitted similarly with the chunky goggles and EEG. “I look silly too.”

“Alfred,” Ivan said. He cleared his throat. “Well, you’re a lot shorter than I imagined.”

Alfred cheeks puffed out. Indignant, he whined. “Dude! So mean! I’m above average! You’re just a super tall glass of water!”

“A what?”

“Nevermind that!” he seemed flustered. Stepping forward, he met Ivan halfway for a hug. They remained embracing for perhaps what was longer than customary for strangers, but they weren’t strangers, after all.

Alfred broke away first, smiling. “I’m so happy you’re here, man! Sorry about all the weird stuff, and with having Matthew pick you up. How are you feeling?”

Elated was a word Ivan wanted to use. Instead, he smiled, still processing the fact that he was finally there, with Alfred. Sure, he’d prefer not being all tangled up with wires, but if it was Alfred’s request, how could he deny it? “I’m fine,” he said instead. He wasn’t aware however that his cheeks held the slightest tinge of pink. Alfred, still awfully close to him, also was flushed, though only the other three witness could discern the subtle color difference.

“Alright, enough of the eyes, already. I think you should both take off the glasses,” Arthur insisted.

“Of course! I think we probably got a sufficient amount of data. Oh, I just wish the MRI could hold two people, or that we had time for a before and after PET scan…”

“Aflred,” Ivan interrupted. “What are you talking about?”

He laughed. “Sorry. I guess it’s now or never. Glasses off on three, okay?” Ivan nodded. “Sweet. Okay, one… two… three!”

On three, they removed their glasses. Ivan’s mouth dropped. All around him was color. The lab was, as expected, still a bleak beige, and his estimation of colors for the three who’d brought him there was correct.

But on seeing Alfred, looking stupid with electrodes stuck to his brilliant blond hair, he was shocked by the vivid blue that stared back at him. Sure, he’d known they were blue, but he’d never guess they—or anything, really—could be so deep, so beautiful.

Alfred was equally enthralled, not even caring about seeing the lab he’d spent years of his life in in its true light. More pressing was taking in every last detail of Ivan’s visage, his pink lips, his reddened cheeks that only grew redder by the second, and the lightest of violet eyes against milky skin. He reached out tentatively, his hand stopping just centimeters away from Ivan’s cheek.

Ivan stepped forward, bringing their skin together. He placed one hand over Alfred’s and his other in fluffy blond hair, quite the feat given the electrodes.

In seconds they were kissing, so lost in each other to notice the number of photos being taken of them.

“This is really gay,” Gilbert deduced, posting the video he’d taken to his snapchat story.

“Alfred always insisted he’d keep his head during his Meeting,” Matthew remarked.

“Idiot, as if he could do anything _not_ over-the-top.” Arthur also snapped a few shots to send to his husband. Plus, for research, he assured himself. Or perhaps for blackmail. They certainly made for an amusing sight.

Finally, they separated, both slightly out of breath but grinning madly.

“Do you know what this means, Ivan?”

“I think so,” he smiled.

All of a sudden, Alfred hopped back. He picked up a notebook from the table and started jotting down notes. “I just had an MRI right before you came in! And there’s still time to before my post-encounter PET scan! Imagine, we’ve got live data! Ivan, follow me, we need to get your brain activity documented, too. Oh they’re gonna freak about this at the conference! Arthur! Is everything ready!”

“Of course.”

“Good!” Alfred looked at his mate, reaching out. “Come on, big guy. It’s time to change the world! With this information, just think what we can do!”

Ivan took the offered hand, following after Alfred into the next room. They were quickly rid of their EEGs, and then separated to prepare for further tests.

Ivan’s mind was still racing, and he chose to calm himself by viewing all the colors in the waiting room.

“Sorry about Alfred,” Matthew began. They were currently waiting for Alfred’s MRI to conclude. “Don’t think he’s just using you for his research, or anything. He really does care about you.”

“Of course, I know he’s just very excited about all this.”

Matthew nodded. “He can’t shut up about you these days. He was so looking forward to your visit. Hoping he’d finally See. He’s a romantic, you know, even though he’s fine without a Mate, he wants one. He liked you even before all that, though I suppose this just reinforces everything he feels. He really hoped it’d be you. I’m glad it worked out.”

Ivan smiled. “I’m glad, too. I… haven’t had luck in that field, obviously. Even just talking with Alfred as we have made me also a bit more hopeful than usual. It’s odd.”

“Well, you’ll get to spend this whole week together, at least. And you know Alfred, always traveling. If it works well, he could always visit Moscow, too. Will you be back at Princeton, do you think?”

At that moment, Ivan was considering the possibility of transferring to California. Why, he had plenty of peers very satisfied with what Stanford had to offer them. He shook his head, figuring he was getting way too ahead of himself. “I’ll be back in the States soon, I’m sure.”

“That’s good. Ah, he’s done, it seems,” Matthew remarked, pointing through the large window to where the MRI machine was located. Alfred was nearly sprinting into the observation room. Through the window, Ivan could see him being yelled at by Arthur who sat in front of a computer. They scanned over the photos, then pulled up old files. He of course didn’t know what they were looking for, but then Alfred glanced up. Catching Ivan’s eyes, he gave a thumbs up, suggesting that things were going well.

He was reunited with Ivan minutes later, eyes aglow from a successful trial.

“How was it?” Ivan asked.

“Amazing! Everything is looking great! Since I did it right before and right after… plus we have the EEG data for when I met you but without the overload associated with taking in colors thanks to the glasses… it’s gonna be great! My paper’s practically gonna write itself!” he was bobbing up and down, eyes darting like mad. He was grinning, though instead of looking manic, Ivan could sense he truly was just excited that his years of work were finally getting some tangible results.

He grabbed Alfred’s hand, and the man calmed immediately. Glancing up, he blushed a bit.

“Sorry, I ramble when I’m nervous.”

“Are you always nervous, then?” Ivan laughed.

“Only with you! Gosh, I Googled you before calling, wanted to see what you studied—oh, shoot, Mattie told me not to tell you that, that it’d be creepy… but whatever! I saw a picture of you, and you were so beautiful! And then talking to you, you were always so kind and encouraging and I just wanted some help but then we were friends but then I started liking you and then you were coming and I really wanted it to work like this so I got my hopes up and set up this test and—“

Ivan kissed him then, knowing there was no other way to shut him up. It was just a quick peck, but it got the job done, as even after pulling away, Alfred was smart enough to figure that he could stand to be silent for a bit.

“You have nothing to be worried about,” Ivan assured. “I’m not going anywhere. But, as soon as these tests are done, will you let me take you on a date?”

Alfred smiled, reaching out to take Ivan’s hand and squeezing it gently. “I’d love nothing more.”  


End file.
